


Fucking Dragons, Man

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Fantasy, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tower? Check. </p><p>Dragon? Unfortunate check. </p><p>Prince Charming? Well, it turns out he was actually the dragon.</p><p>Shame how things work out that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Dragons, Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I actually wrote awhile ago, to work out some anger I was feeling, and that I linked people to through twitter. And now I'm posting it, for some reason.
> 
> AKA the Dragon Story.

Chris isn’t very fond of towers.

After all, they’re incredibly cliché. How many fairy tale characters have been trapped in towers? _Lots_ , is the answer, and Chris had never thought he’d join the ranks. Tower? Check. Dragon? Unfortunate check. Prince Charming? Well, it turns out he was actually the dragon.

Shame how things work out that way.

Chris folds his arms on the window sill and stares out, bored out of his mind. He has no idea where the dragon is, but he assumes not very far away. Not that it matters—the door is strong, and Chris has already bruised his shoulder trying to break it down, and he’s... Well, he’s too far up to _jump_. How long did it take Rapunzel to grow her hair out?

Whatever. Chris is sure he has the time.

“Dick,” he mutters out the window, as if the dragon might be able to hear him. “How long have you had this planned, exactly?” Chris breathes in sharply, because he’s _not_ going to cry. “Long, I’d guess. Long enough to gain my trust... Get my guard down... And wait until I don’t have a sword like the fucking coward you are!” He shouts out the window, but there isn’t an answer. Not that Chris had expected one.

He slides down from the window, pressing his back against the stone and curling in on himself. He’s an _idiot_. What kind of person falls for a dragon? _A stupid one_ , he reminds himself, burying his face in his arms as his eyes start to water. _A desperate one_ , he tells himself, and it hits closer to home.

Maybe not desperate. Maybe _gullible_ is a better word to use. Because Chris had never even questioned it. A few nice words, some romantic gestures... He’d made Chris feel _special_ , and _wanted_.

Chris sniffs, the tears otherwise falling quietly down his cheeks.

Ain’t that a _laugh_.

It was all a lie, in the end. He’d never wanted Chris as a person, just as a prisoner. He has no idea what the dragon plans to do with him now, but he knows it can’t be good.

He hates crying, and he knows it isn’t going to do any good. So he makes himself stop, rubbing his eyes and snotty nose against his sleeve and breathing deeply. That asshole doesn’t deserve his tears after all.

Fucking dragon.

*

Towers are really fucking boring.

Chris’s comfort obviously isn’t in mind, because the room he’s trapped in is completely barren except for a blanket ( _such luxury_ ). No books, no paper and pen, _nothing_. Chris has already counted every brick twice, and staring out the window is either boring or makes him feel ridiculously depressed. He’d tried to sing, to see if maybe he could collect some animal friends, but apparently he lacks that particular trait.

He hasn’t seen the dragon, but he’s heard him once—just a great, unnecessary roar from the base of the tower. Chris wonders if it was supposed to be _scary_ or _intimidating_ , because it only made Chris roll his eyes.

The dragon must change shape and come upstairs, because whenever Chris falls asleep (a restless, uncomfortable, nightmare ridden sleep) he wakes up to a bowl of soup and a bottle of water. Whatever the dragon has planned for him, he apparently doesn’t want Chris to die before it’s carried through.

Or maybe Chris is just a part of a hoard now. Fucking fantastic. He’s become a _possession_.

He wonders how long it will be until the loneliness and lack of mental stimulation gets to him. Will he start to create imaginary friends to help himself cope? Maybe create an entire mental world to live in instead? Sounds plausible. Maybe if he makes a part with reality, the dragon will consider him worthless and get rid of him.

Chris rather be free and insane, than in his right mind and imprisoned until the day he dies.

“Or neither,” he says, to the empty room. “I pick option C, the one where I’m free _and_ sane.”

But no one is listening, and he doubts it’s ever going to happen.

Maybe he should sing _Nine Hundred and Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall_ again.

The door starts to rattle, and Chris feels his heart clench up. He prefers to be asleep when this happens, because then at least Chris doesn’t have to _see_ him. The door stops rattling for a few seconds, and then goes again, and Chris watches it with one eyebrow raised in judgment. Okay, if the dragon that fucking kidnapped him is _this_ incompetent, what does that say about the fact that he managed to trick Chris?

He hears a muffled _fuck_ , and then the door gives. But when it swings open, there’s no dragon or dragon-turned-man standing there, but Darren.

Unless there’s something Darren hasn’t been telling him.

“Note to self, I am _not_ as good at picking locks as I thought,” he mutters, and then he looks over at Chris and grins that easy going grin of his. He’s rescuing Chris from a _tower_ , and he’s smiling at him like they’re just hanging out just like they used to. Chris gapes at him for a moment before he’s scrambling to his feet, wincing at the pain that still throbs in his shoulder, and then runs towards Darren.

Darren’s arms catch him.

“It’s okay,” Darren whispers in his hair, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Chris, I got you, it’ll be okay now.”

“ _Darren_ ,” Chris whimpers into his shoulder, and Darren rocks him back and forth gently, kisses his temple, and Chris just lets everything out. He’s been trapped for days, and he’d thought... He’d really thought he’d be trapped there forever. “How’d you find me?”

“That dragon of yours isn’t exactly subtle,” Darren mutters, good humoredly, but Chris shakes his head vigorously.

“ _No_ dragon of mine, are you fucking kidding?” Chris hisses with venom in his voice, and Darren pulls back, staring at Chris intently.

“I was kidding, yeah.” He reaches up, and his fingers brush hesitantly at Chris’s hair. It’s weird, because Darren is never hesitant in his affection—it makes something in Chris’s heart flutter.

“Speaking of the dragon,” Chris says, a little breathless, and then clears his throat, sufficiently breaking the moment. “How’d you beat him?”

“...I didn’t.” Darren grins a little sheepishly. “But I did bring something for you.” He hugs Chris a little tighter before letting go— _reluctantly_ letting go, and Chris is a little reluctant for him to do it, too—and stepping back towards the door, reaching out into the landing. When he comes back, he’s toting—

“My sword!” Chris exclaims, excitedly, rushing forward as Darren holds it out. He grabs it, and then immediately winces when the action strains his shoulder the wrong way.

“You’re hurt.” Darren’s voice pitches lower with worry, and then he’s stepping forward, reaching out to touch Chris’s shoulder. “Did... Did _he_ do this to you?”

“No.” Chris shakes his head, and reaches up to prod at the tenderness in his upper arm. “I did this to me, trying to break down the door.” He smiles wryly at Darren. “It’s not as easy as they make it look.”

Darren chuckles lightly, carefully pulling on the neck of Chris’s shirt until he can see a bit more of the skin. He frowns.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to—”

“If I have to wield it with my left hand, I will.” He gives Darren a firm look. “I’m no damsel.”

“I know.” Darren smiles at him. “That’s why I brought you your sword. I know you only needed a hand with the door.”

“Debatable,” Chris jokes, and he’s surprised at himself. After all, they’re joking about his _captivity_ and _fighting a dragon_. It really isn’t a funny situation.

“As soon as we deal with _him_ though—” Darren marks a jerking motion with his head towards the doorway, and Chris knows he means the dragon, “—I’m taking you home and you’re just going to... Rest, okay?”

“As long as I can have a book or my laptop, that’s fine.” Chris smiles softly, and Darren chuckles again.

“You must have been out of your fucking mind in here.”

“I was certainly on my way,” Chris mutters, darkly, and then shakes his head. He looks at Darren imploringly. “So what’s the plan?”

Darren bites his lip and pulls a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, about that, um... Sort of don’t have one past this. I thought maybe you could help me out there?”

Chris huffs out a disbelieving laugh and shakes his head.

“Well, um... He brings me food at least once a day? I’m usually asleep, so I don’t know when, but he has to be human when he does it. And it’s not really big enough for him to turn into a dragon in the stairwell... We could ambush him?”

“I love your brain.” And Darren kisses his cheek, just like it’s nothing, even though Chris hasn’t bathed in days. “Although, one problem with that,” Darren murmurs, his cheek pressed to Chris’s.

“What’s that?”

“The door.” Darren pulls away and looks over at it. “I think he’d notice it was unlocked, don’t you?”

“Can’t we just... Relock it?”

“Woah, hey. I could hardly fucking pick the lock in the first place, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to undo whatever damage I did.” Darren gestures a bit wildly with his hands, and Chris is glad that his sword is hanging at his hip rather than gripped in his fingers.

“Well, how’d you get past him on your way in?”

“I didn’t.” Darren shrugs. “He wasn’t there. I literally walked right in. He’s kind of a pompous dick, isn’t he?”

Chris feels a stab of pain through his chest, and wraps one arm around himself, looking away from Darren.

“Or he just doesn’t think anyone would try to take me back from him.” Chris feels his throat close up, and breathes out harshly. “Even as a prisoner, I’m not worth guarding.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Darren is right there, turning Chris’s face until they’re eye to eye again. “Don’t be ridiculous. After I have you all snug in bed, I’m breaking out my shovel and digging a fucking moat around your house.”

Chris laughs, wetly.

“I don’t think my neighbors will like that very much.”

“Yeah, well, fuck your neighbors.” Darren’s hand is rough as it cups Chris’s cheek, and, when Chris averts his eyes, Darren ducks to catch them again. “Don’t let that fucktard make you feel worthless, okay? He doesn’t deserve any of your time, or thoughts, or any of that.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Chris doesn’t think it’s anything he’ll be over anytime soon.

“Come on. It will probably make you feel better if you stab him in the heart.” Darren steps back, and holds out his hand, fingers wiggling. Chris takes it, twirling his sword around in his other hand.

“Is that the plan?” Chris asks, eyebrows high on his forehead in surprise as they head out the door. He doesn’t even glance back at the room he was imprisoned in.

“Um, probably not. I don’t think either of us are the murdering type. But I wouldn’t mind leaving him with a scar or two.”

Chris’s laugh echoes in the stairwell.

*

Chris finds he’s much less resentful of the outside world when he’s standing in it rather than looking at it through the window of a tower.

“Fresh air,” Chris exclaims, breathing deep, and Darren laughs, deep and throaty, behind him.

“Did you just say that? Really? _You?_ ”

“Shut up.” Chris glares at him playfully, but otherwise his spirits are pretty high. Darren was right—there’s no dragon to be seen, and they can just walk back to the road where Darren was forced to leave his car (“do you know how hard it is to find a noble steed at the last minute?”). “You know, it feels kind of cheap that my freedom is so easy.”

“I’m sorry it’s not more life threatening,” Darren teases, as they walk hand-in-hand through the trees.

“I didn’t mean it like that, just... It felt so hopeless, and I’m... I guess I’m just pissed, you know? Like, maybe if I’d tried harder I could have gotten out on my own.” Chris frowns deeply, until Darren is tugging at his hand to get his attention.

“You could have broken your arm, or worse, he could have caught you. I... I don’t like thinking what he’d do to you, if that happened.” Darren’s eyebrows furrow low over his eyes. “He _didn’t_ hurt you, did he?”

“Well, he clocked me on the back of the head pretty good,” Chris grumbles. “Asshole couldn’t just wait until I drugged myself to sleep, _no_. He had to fucking knock me out.” Chris kicks at a stone and watches it tumble down the hill. It takes him a moment to realize just how hard Darren is suddenly gripping his hand. Chris looks at him, a little confused. “Dare? I’m fine, really. I just might have a bit of a bump.”

“Jesus...” Darren hisses, and he tugs his free hand through his hair. “I just... I never liked the guy, I should have known something was up with him.”

“It’s not like you could have known he was actually a dragon, Darren, I mean, what are the chances of that?” Chris deadpans, but then blinks curiously. “Wait, you never liked him?”

When Darren’s eyes dodge to him, he looks a little nervous.

“I... No, not really, but... Fuck, Chris, I should just tell you—”

The ground shakes suddenly and they both stumble, nearly losing their footing but catching themselves at the last second. They use each other for balance, but don’t let themselves be confused for too long. After all, that wasn’t an earthquake.

When Chris lets go of Darren’s hand and turns around, there’s the dragon in all his true dragon glory. He’s... Well, a lot more intimidating than Chris had thought he’d be, but then again, he’s a _fucking dragon_ , so is it really that surprising? Chris raises his sword, though, and is happy when his arms don’t shake with how terrified he’s feeling.

 **Is that really necessary?** a voice says. It’s a voice inside Chris’s own head. It’s _his_ voice, the dragon’s, and Chris hates how it feels like a slap across the face. **We don’t need to resort to that. Just come back to the tower, Chris.**

“Um, yeah, no, fuck that. It’s not exactly a five star tower or anything,” Chris bites back. He wonders if Darren can hear him too, or if he’s only speaking to Chris.

 **And here I thought I was treating you so well.** The dragon twists his head to the side, and, if Chris didn’t know better, he’d say he was grinning. **But let’s not do this. We don’t want your friend to get hurt**. Chris’s eyes flash to Darren, who has his own sword drawn, his body poised for action. **I was never fond of him, myself, but I know you always were. And he cared so _deeply_ for you...**

“You know what?” Chris yells. “Fuck off. Are we going to do this or aren’t we?”

The dragon’s head jolts back a bit, like he’s surprised, and then he rears to his full height. Well, fuck. Dragons are sort of huge. Chris looks at Darren nervously, but he’s smiling encouragingly.

“We can do this,” he says, and Chris nods, because it’s nicer to believe Darren than the doubts swimming around in his own head.

**Fine by me.**

And then the dragon roars, and Chris yells, “get out of the way!” He doesn’t know which way Darren goes, but he dives to his left, just in time to miss the stream of flame the licks across the grass where he’d been standing. He stares at where the grass is charred black, where some areas still glow from the touch of fire.

 _Fuck_.

But Chris doesn’t really have time to be stunned. There’s a tearing sound, and he can see the dragon tearing at the trees, trying to get at him. So he does the only thing he can at that moment—he runs.

**Come out, come out, wherever you are.**

God, this is _so_ fucked up.

He hears the dragon cry out, and he turns around, shoulders heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t forget about me, now.” It’s Darren, sword brandished and stained with ruby red blood. The dragon has a gash on his leg. If he’s saying anything to Darren, Chris wouldn’t know, but then his tail swishes around and catches Darren in the chest, throwing him backwards. Chris stares, stunned, and then feels anger course through him.

He can’t run from this forever, after all. What’s that phrase? Go hard or go home? It probably doesn’t apply to his situation at all, but it’s the only thing he’s got right now. That, and the image of Darren crumpled on the ground.

“Come on, you giant lizard. If you want to fight someone, fight me.”

The dragon turns his yellow eyes on Chris, and there’s no warning before he lunges at him, snapping his jaws. Chris dodges, surprised at himself, and then brings his sword down hard on the dragon’s maw. He yelps in pain, and pulls back, and Chris feels a surge of confidence swell through him.

That is, until the dragon is swiping at him with a claw. Talons cut across Chris’s shoulder, and his already injured one slams hard into the ground. He bites down on his cry of pain, gritting his teeth and breathing hard. He can hear the dragon laughing in his head, _taunting_ him.

**You know, you were always kind of adorable when you thought you could do something that you just _couldn’t_.**

“Wanna bet?” Chris spits, using his sword to get back on his feet. The problem is, he can talk as big of a game as he’d like, but he still doesn’t have a plan. He has no clue how to slay a dragon, and he doesn’t actually _want_ to slay it. After all, he was a person once, wasn’t he?

Even if he has no such worries about Chris.

His eyes dodge around, and he can see Darren’s sword lying on the ground. His left arm is killing him, but he’d rather endure the pain than just die. He runs for it, picking it up with his left hand and turning just in time to block another one of the dragon’s swipes. The blades pierce his claw, and he yelps in pain again, drawing back and now limping. Well, at least that’s a little bit of an advantage.

Until the dragon is opening his mouth again and sending out a flurry of flame, and that’s just not _fair_. Chris dodges it again, but it’s closer this time, the heat seeping through his clothing. It _just_ misses where Darren is still unconscious, and Chris needs to get the fight away from him.

So he does the stupidest thing he could probably do—he runs straight at the dragon. It at least manages to catch him off guard, because he’s sporting a long gash on his underbelly before he can react, and by then, Chris is running back in the direction of the tower. He can hear the dragon chasing after him, can feel the ground tremble beneath his feet. His head is running on double time, trying to come up with some sort of advantage on the dragon.

But he doesn’t have one.

Running back to the tower takes a lot less time than he thought, and soon he’s only faced with two options: he can go back through the door, or he can face the dragon.

**I knew you’d come back.**

The dragon comes to corner him, teeth bared and eyes glinting.

**You like it, don’t you? Being mine?**

“I’m not _yours_.” Maybe he was once, but not anymore. Never again.

**Oh, but you are. That’s why you came back. You like it, don’t you?**

“In your dreams, you sick, twisted bastard.”

There’s movement behind the dragon that catches Chris’s eye.

**I did always like it when you got angry. _Passionate_.**

“Oh, I’m passionate alright. I _passionately_ hate you, and everything you did to me.” Chris swallows the lump in his throat, and raises Darren’s sword higher. “And you aren’t going to get away with it again.”

**_Really?_ Says who?**

“Says us!” A voice behind the dragon yells, and Chris hurls the sword in that direction. Darren catches it, grinning with a little less vibrance than usual. He has a gash on his head that looks bad, but he’s still up, he’s still conscious.

He’s still alive.

“Having all the fun without me?” Darren calls, full of good humor even in the face of death. Chris rolls his eyes.

“You were a little, um, detained.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Won’t happen again.”

The dragon is still staring at Darren, and Chris can see his tail starting to rise. Chris knows he has this one moment to act, and so he does the only thing he can think of. He puts all his weight behind his sword, and then runs it into the dragon’s side.

It howls, loud and sharp, so _piercing_ that Chris wants to cover his ears. The dragon tries to claw at his wound, and ends up on his side. Chris runs forward with Darren, and they cross their swords in a cage over the dragon’s neck. He stills, glaring at them.

“So what now?” Darren asks, and he sounds out of breath.

“...I don’t know, I don’t really want to kill him.”

“...I could kill him, if like, you’re worried about your conscience.”

“Darren,” Chris reprimands. “Is there like... A way we can damage him so that he turns back into a human and never becomes a dragon again?”

“Wow. That’s, um, super specific. Also, I have no clue. I’m not exactly a dragon-shapeshifting expert.”

“Lot of help you are,” Chris mutters, and then stares down at the dragon. “You probably won’t change back if we ask you too, huh?” The dragon just huffs smoke out of his nose in reply.

“What if we threaten to cut off your foot?”

Chris looks at Darren in surprise.

“What? That wouldn’t kill him. It’d just... Disfigure him a little bit.”

“...yeah, I guess we could go with that, which one first?”

But the dragon starts to shift beneath them, until, instead of a dragon’s neck, they have a man’s neck trapped beneath their swords.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Chris mocks, and the man-who-was-once-a-dragon glares up at him.

*

Since he was so fond of that tower of his, they lock him inside of it. Well, they put a metal collar around his neck and give him a lot of leash room, but there’s no way he can change without choking himself to death. He’ll just have to learn to hunt without the use of razor sharp teeth and talons.

When they finally leave the tower behind them, they’re both dirty and bleeding, but alive, and that’s what matters.

“Guess I can cross _vanquish a dragon_ off my bucket list, huh?” Darren asks as they stroll away from the burnt and destroyed wilderness, away from the tower, away from the dragon.

“Well, we didn’t exactly vanquish him...” Chris catches Darren’s unamused glare. “But sure.”

“We did pretty awesome, though. Maybe we should take on dragon slaying as a hobby?”

“No, I think I’ve exhausted all my dragon slaying capabilities, thanks.” Chris shakes his head, and then turns to look at Darren. He’s limping. “We should probably go to a hospital.”

“Yeah, you’re right, those cuts on your arm look pretty nasty.”

“Darren, I thought you _died_.” Well, Chris hadn’t meant to say that. Darren stops hobbling (since he isn’t exactly walking), and looks at Chris in surprise.

“Did you really?” His voice is softer than Chris had been expecting. Chris swallows.

“Well, I mean... You weren’t moving, I didn’t know...” He hadn’t wanted to think about it, at the time. But he’ll never forget the relief he felt when he heard Darren’s voice again.

“It’s okay, you know,” Darren says, and Chris looks at him in confusion. “To need people.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Chris refutes immediately, but Darren just sort of cocks his head to the side.

“I think you do,” he responds, knowingly. It’s kind of infuriating, really. Chris wants to turn and stomp away, but he actually is worried about Darren’s wounds, and he probably has no intention of having them looked at, and Chris really doesn’t want him to die of like infection after all of this, because there’s still so much to say and—

“Wait.” Chris reaches out and gingerly takes Darren’s arm. “Before we... Wow, fought a dragon, never thought I’d say _that_ , but... You were saying something, weren’t you?” The way Darren had been acting, it had seemed really important.

“Oh, right, that...” Darren turns to face him fully, and then tugs him a little closer. “You see, the thing is—” and then Darren kisses him, without any sort of warning, and Chris goes completely still in shock. It’s short, and Darren is pulling back, alarm written across his face. “Woah, shit, sorry, was that—Chris? Are you okay? Was that too much?”

“Shh.” Chris reaches up and presses a hand to Darren’s mouth. Because, well, wow. He hadn’t been expecting that, at all. He has about a million questions to ask, and a lot of feelings to sort out, but for right now, he’s in the middle of a fairy tale, and _dammit_ , he’s going to end it right. “Kiss me again,” he whispers, and Darren’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Are you—”

“Darren.” Chris meets his eyes. “I’m sure.”

So Darren doesn’t hesitate. He kisses Chris again, harder than he had the first time, and this time Chris kisses back, arms twisting tight around Darren’s neck as Darren’s hands curve around his upper arms.

“ _Ow_ , fuck.” Chris jerks back, and Darren does too, wincing at some tender spot Chris is probably touching. Right, they’re both seriously injured. Fairy tales sort of leave that part out, don’t they?

“Prince Charming? Check,” Chris mutters, and then Darren’s eyes focus on him, amused but confused.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”


End file.
